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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188437">forbidden fruit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesa/pseuds/Kaesa'>Kaesa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kaesa's Whumptober 2020 fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Femdom, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens), Painplay, Pretending To Be Tortured But It's Just A Handjob, Risky/Dangerous Sex, The Arrangement (Good Omens), Wing Kink, but basically enemies to lovers through painplay are applicable to michael/ligur, this fic has two pairings with sex scenes and I am having trouble tagging appropriately</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 04:00:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,882</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesa/pseuds/Kaesa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1066 and Crowley has been indulging in a little harmless fun -- some arrows in some eyes here and there, nothing serious -- but then he wakes up in Heaven, beaten badly by the Archangel Michael, alongside his more serious-minded coworker, Ligur.  Michael sends Crowley off to be interrogated by Aziraphale, while she deals with Ligur herself, and Crowley has some realizations about himself, his feelings, and the Arrangement.</p><p>[The explicit rating is for sex scenes for both Michael/Ligur and Aziraphale/Crowley, but please mind the tags if you're here for kinks, as they are very different sex scenes.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Ligur/Michael (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kaesa's Whumptober 2020 fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>forbidden fruit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Whumptober 2020, for the prompts "Let’s Hang Out Sometime" (waking up restrained, shackled); "My Way or the Highway" (manhandled, forced to their knees); "I've Got You" (enemy to caretaker); "I Did Not See That Coming" (wrongfully accused); Day Twenty, "Toto, I Have A Feeling We're Not in Kansas Anymore" (lost, field medicine, medieval); and "What's a Whumpee Gotta Do to Get Some Sleep Around Here?" (exhaustion).</p><p>The Michael/Ligur scene is established relationship, with femdom, painplay, mild xeno, and wing kink.  The Aziraphale/Crowley scenes are fluffy first-time sex.</p><p>My wing headcanons for Michael and Ligur are pretty much swiped from <a href="https://kaenith.tumblr.com/post/187055318498/contrary-to-popular-belief-the-wings-of-demons">this lovely fanart</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Crowley woke up, he had about fifty terrible realizations all at once, and there was no time for him to sort them into neat little piles.  He apprehended, suddenly and unhappily, that he was face down on a cold floor, that his arms were shackled behind his back, and that everything hurt.  The suspicion that he had at least one broken rib bumped painfully against the realization that one of the two pairs of shoes on the immaculate floor in front of him was awfully familiar, which also abutted the knowledge that the voice grunting in pain next to him definitely belonged to Ligur.  And then he connected the shoes with their owners when somebody pulled him painfully to his knees by his neck, and he found himself looking into the face of the Archangel Michael.</p><p>Standing next to her was Aziraphale.</p><p>Michael looked pleased with herself, as always, but not <em>too</em> pleased with herself, because there were probably rules against that.  Her armor shone like someone insufferable had spent more time polishing it than the armor itself had existed.  Aziraphale's armor, being real human-made stuff, was rather more worn, and he looked like he was going to be ill.</p><p>Crowley's first thought was that they'd been found out, and his heart sank.  But if that was so, why was Ligur here?</p><p>"Very good.  Both awake," said Michael briskly, as if she hadn't been responsible for breaking Crowley's rib in the first place.  Because now he had hazy memories of this, of her coming out of nowhere and kicking their arses, and they hadn't even been <em>doing</em> anything.</p><p>Well.  Ligur hadn't been doing anything; he'd had some big master plan to change the course of the battle, and he was waiting for the right moment.  Crowley had just been having a nice time and getting arrows to fly into people's eyes.  Beside him, Ligur looked like he wanted to rip Michael's throat out, his eyes blazing red.</p><p>If she was impressed, she didn't show it, although she did have that nasty spear of hers.  "Now.  If the two of you cooperate, I think we can let you go without doing too much more damage to you," she said, like that was a generous offer.</p><p>"You won't get anything out of me," Ligur growled.  Michael took her spear then, and used it to tilt Ligur's face up towards her, and Crowley began to think maybe there was something he was missing here.  "You know where you can shove that spear too," Ligur added.</p><p>"Oh no, it goes into other people," said Michael, helpfully.  She smiled coldly, and turned to Aziraphale.  "I think we ought to question them separately, so that if they lie, we can catch them out."</p><p>"Ah!  Yes, that sounds like, er, like a good plan," said Aziraphale.  He looked immensely relieved, and Crowley wished he did not, because one look at his face and Michael would realize <em>everything.</em>  But she seemed too absorbed in hauling Ligur to his feet, thankfully.</p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley both watched as Michael pushed Ligur in front of her, and shepherded him down the corridor, the point of her spear pressed against the small of his back.  It was not until they had turned the corner that Aziraphale's eyes found Crowley's.</p><p>"Well.  Well, er, demon, I suppose... I'm going to have to get some answers out of you," said Aziraphale, plainly terrified.  "Er.  Can... can you stand?"</p><p>Crowley began struggling to his feet, but Aziraphale, bless him, tried to help.  He offered a hand, and then remembered that Crowley was still bound, and then seemed to be trying to somehow lift Crowley without actually touching him.  "Get out of the way, angel," sighed Crowley, hoping nobody was watching this spectacle.  "It's just this stupid armor getting in the way."</p><p>"You're not hurt too badly?" Aziraphale asked.</p><p>"Not half as badly as I expect I deserve, being an agent of the adversary and all," said Crowley, trying to somehow communicate to Aziraphale that he should be a little more hostile, even though they seemed to be alone now.</p><p>"Right.  Yes.  Of course," said Aziraphale, wringing his hands, as Crowley finally made it to his feet.  "This way, I think," he said, guiding Crowley into a small room off the corridor as if he was Crowley's host, and getting ready to be apologetic about the inadequate thickness of the guest towels.</p><p>Crowley sighed.  He knew he was going to have a rough time guiding Aziraphale through the appearance of a convincing enmity, but there was a little comfort in knowing that Ligur was probably getting far worse down the corridor with Michael.</p><p>* * *</p><p>Crowley was both right and wrong about Ligur getting far worse.  Because the thing about Ligur was that he <em>hated</em> Michael, but in fact, he had found, he hated her so much it was the fun kind of hate, the kind of hate he reserved only for the most interesting and worthy opponents.  So he wasn't exactly... <em>not</em> enjoying it when she shoved him into the interrogation room, slammed the door, and pushed him against the wall with one hand around his throat.  "Where are Hell's development plans for the next few centuries?" she demanded.  "You said you'd have them."</p><p>Her face was very close, and Ligur grinned.  "Gonna have to let my hands free or I can't show you," he said.  "Or I guess you can go looking yourself."</p><p>She was tempted, he could tell.  That was the thing about Michael; she hated him just as much, he was sure of it.  Someday, he thought, he'd get her to Fall, and all this would be worth it -- not that it wasn't fun in and of itself, but even Satan would have to sit up and take notice if he got the Archangel Michael to Fall.  He watched her try and decide, then, whether she wanted to let him have the use of his hands or to strip him herself, and after looking him up and down, she stepped back, gave a lazy wave of one finger, and his hands were free.</p><p>He stepped forward, but she shoved him back against the wall.  She was stronger than him, so there was no use fighting that, nor the hard, hot kiss full of teeth she gave him a moment later.  Still, he could get that stupid armor off of her now, so he did, hands wandering to her back and ripping through the metal like it was nothing.  The chestplate or whatever it was -- humans gave this shit all kinds of fancy names, but armor was armor -- fell to the floor, crumpled.</p><p>She stopped kissing him, and bit into his neck instead, drawing blood.  "Bastard," she said.  "You know I'm going to have to fix that.  Can't let it look like I let you get the better of me."</p><p>"It was shit armor anyway," he said.  "Didn't blend in at <em>all.</em>  You're lucky that idiot Crowley didn't spot you before I did, dressing up like a blessed beacon of holiness."</p><p>"Is he going to talk?" she asked, pulling away suddenly, looking concerned.</p><p>"What?  Crowley talks all the time," said Ligur.  "Nobody listens.  Except, you know."  He nodded downward.  "Him.  But I'm not worried about it.  He'll spill everything he knows to that idiot you sent him off with.  You can't trust Crowley, everyone knows that.  Can't trust anyone, really, but Crowley especially."</p><p>"And you're sure you won't be found out?" she asked.  She licked his blood off her lips, and pulled his mail shirt off over his head.</p><p>"What's to find out?" he asked.  "Never said I was giving you anything."  Her answer to this was to shove him into the wall again, with another kiss, and slide her hands up his tunic, where she found the bit of parchment he had hidden on his person.  Disappointingly, once she'd fished it out she turned away from him to read it, but on the other hand, it was a rare thing for an Archangel to turn her back on a Duke of Hell, and Ligur took her spear from where she'd leaned it against the wall.</p><p>He was careful not to touch the spear itself, protecting his hands with the fabric of his shirtsleeve, but as soon as he lowered it to point it at her neck, she tucked the parchment away, turned, and snatched the spear out of his hands again, pinning him to the wall with it.  It burned the skin of his neck.  "Oh come now, you don't think I'm as stupid as all that," she said.</p><p>"Worth a shot," he said, roughly.  No, there was no point in pretending not to enjoy this sort of hate, not when he could tell how much Michael hated him back; all her holiness burned him even where the spear didn't touch him.  "Now you've got what you wanted, what else were you going to do with me?"</p><p>"I don't think I've got <em>everything</em> I wanted," she said, with a thin smile.  "Of course, I will have to rough you up a bit, see that you look... convincingly interrogated.  But we don't have to start with that."  She summoned a chair out of nothing, and forced Ligur onto his knees before removing the rest of her Heavenly armor with a gesture, and sitting.  "I am rather glad you left that awful lizard thing at home," she said, looking down at him imperiously.  "I hate the idea of that thing watching us."</p><p>Ligur <em>was</em> the awful lizard thing, whether it was visible or not, but he decided not to correct her on that one, because he was enjoying the accidental compliment.  "Wouldn't fit under the armor, that's all," he said.</p><p>"Enough talking," she said.  She spread her legs and pulled up her tunic, so that he could put his tongue to better use.  Ligur had quite a long tongue when he wanted to, although after a few less-fun experiences of being kicked in the face, he had decided letting the end of it go all sticky was more trouble than it was worth, at least with Michael.  Hastur was much more open-minded about these things, but of course, even the most interesting of angels had to be a <em>little</em> boring.</p><p>He lowered his face to her cunt, specially made for the occasion, and savored the taste and the scent of her while she squirmed above him, trying so very hard to be stoic.  But she gave up on that after a few moments, and Ligur was able to bring her to a shuddering, desperate climax easily enough, taking her precious Lord's name in vain repeatedly.  The second time was much more satisfying, because she was whimpering his own name instead as she came.  When she finally let him up, he saw that she was looking down at him with...</p><p>Well, it was...</p><p>It almost didn't look like hate.  Almost.</p><p>She stroked the side of his face, and helped him up before she got to her feet, slightly wobbly from her previous exertions.  "Sit down," she told him, but there was no ferocity in it; he'd taken that from her.</p><p>"I want to see you," he said, emboldened by her strange gentleness.  She had taken off her armor, but she was still so closed off, and he wanted to touch her all over, not just where she was letting him.  "Take off your clothes."</p><p>"I don't care what you want," she said, but he could tell it was only words.</p><p>"I don't think that's true," he said.  "Come on, archangel, show me the rest of you."  He paused.  "Show me your wings," he added.  He'd never seen them except in battle; had never had the opportunity to touch them, or to feel them on his own.</p><p>She stared at him for a long moment, and he couldn't read her at all, until she said, "You first."</p><p>And so he stood and undressed himself, in the slow, human way, and when he was done he unfolded his wings.  He didn't use them much; Hell was dark and dirty, and his wings were too bright and colorful to fit in down there.</p><p>It was nothing like hate, the way she looked at him then.  "I've never seen your wings," she said, and reached out to touch the scarlet feathers along the top.  Ligur shivered at her gentle touch, and she reached down to run a hand through his long azure primary feathers.</p><p>He stepped back and drew his wing away before she could touch it any more.  "Now, now.  I went first; it's your turn."</p><p>She looked indignant for a moment, but then she must have reconsidered, because in a moment she stood naked before him, seeming almost uncertain about it as she unfolded her own lovely blue and white wings.  Then she stepped forward, and kissed him for a long moment, cupping his jaw gently, though the tips of her fingers burned with holiness.  He ran his own hands down her back, running his fingers through her feathers where he could reach them, then settled his hands on her arse, grinning into the kiss.</p><p>Then she shoved him down onto -- well, he'd expected the chair, but now there was a feather bed behind him, and that was much better, he decided, as she straddled him and trailed the tips of her wings along his own.  It felt almost unbearably good to slide inside of her even without the pleasure-pain of her raking her hands through his feathers and clinging to his shoulders with a bruising strength, and he lost himself in the sensation, chanting her name as she rode him.</p><p>Afterward, they lay in the bed, exhausted and relishing each other's touch.  She pressed into the bruises she'd given him lightly, and watched with satisfaction as he gasped, and then kissed him gently before running her hands through his feathers.  Time in Heaven ran strangely, and always had, from what Ligur could remember, so he did not know how long it was before she looked up from what she was doing and said, almost apologetically, "I'm still going to have to hurt you, you know."</p><p>* * *</p><p>Once they were inside the Heavenly interrogation chamber, Aziraphale shut the door carefully, and directed Crowley to sit on the uncomfortable chair that had been provided while he wrestled his own armor off.  Then he looked Crowley worriedly up and down.  "Well -- well, er, foul fiend, now that you've had a taste of the wrath of the Archangel Michael, you'd better, er, start talking."</p><p>Aziraphale was about as intimidating as a child waving a twig; he had hat hair (mail hair?) and he looked so <em>worried,</em> and Crowley had to resist the urge to grin up at him, until he began taking Crowley's battered helmet off gently.  "Hey!  What are you doing?"</p><p>"I'm going to bless you," said Aziraphale, clearly trying to convey some sort of Meaning in his look, "and then you'll be very sorry."</p><p>"I'm already very sorry," Crowley said, rolling his eyes, but he let Aziraphale tug the mail coif off of his head and neck, and then felt his cheeks get a bit warm when Aziraphale ran his fingers over Crowley's face.  He hissed in pain as Aziraphale healed some of the damage done to his jaw when Michael had punched him -- she'd knocked a few teeth out.  But he left the bruising, and Crowley couldn't imagine that was a good thing, because he knew Aziraphale could heal it; he'd done it before.</p><p>Then Aziraphale started undoing Crowley's belt, and Crowley realized, <em>Oh Satan, he's going to undress me,</em> and he knew he had to say something, ideally something interrogationy, because Aziraphale seemed to think somebody might be listening.  "Oi, you can't do that," he said, because that was all that came to mind, and also, it was true.</p><p>"I can and I will," said Aziraphale, and the look in his eyes was gentle, but his voice was very firm.  "This will be less painful if you cooperate, you know.  You might as well tell me everything."  He began to lift Crowley's heavy mail hauberk off.</p><p>"I don't <em>know</em> anything," Crowley grumbled.  "Listen, what do you even want to know?" he asked, as he raised his arms over his head.  It did feel better without the weight of it pressing down on him, although he winced as he had to move a couple of fingers that had been stomped by Michael.</p><p>Aziraphale leaned close, and whispered "Where are you hurt?" fiercely, and then drew away again and in a more normal tone of voice, said, "I believe Michael mentioned something about Hell's plans for the next few centuries?"</p><p>"Ah."  Crowley swallowed, and tried to indicate the general region of at least one broken rib (there were probably several), and Aziraphale noticed his badly bruised fingers and seized his hand gently, giving him the most intense look Crowley'd ever seen from him before examining the hand.</p><p>On the one hand, it was very undignified to be poked and prodded all over by one of the Heavenly Host, and any demon would have reacted badly.  On the other hand... <em>badly</em> did not quite describe Crowley's reaction, and he was annoyed with himself for being so fucking flustered.  Admittedly, the angel had appeared fairly frequently in Crowley's stupid wank fantasies, but the temptation towards something forbidden was Crowley's <em>thing,</em> wasn't it?  Was it any wonder he was occasionally tempted himself?  But now that they had their little arrangement, it would have been stupid to try and seduce him, even if they weren't in an interrogation room in Heaven, so Crowley hoped he just didn't notice any of that.</p><p>It would have helped if Aziraphale hadn't been so gentle, or so intense, and if he wasn't so insistent on touching as much of Crowley as possible.  If he was just halfheartedly interrogating Crowley, it would have been fine; if he was only healing Crowley, that would have been better, but even now, Aziraphale's fingers were ghosting over Crowley's completely uninjured wrist, apparently just for fun.  Crowley should have snatched his hand back.</p><p>He did not.  Nor did he object when Aziraphale pulled his tunic up, although Crowley could have done that himself.  Aziraphale's face upon seeing the huge, spreading bruise on Crowley's ribcage made Crowley want to tell him it really wasn't that bad, but then Aziraphale lay his hand over it and oh fuck, it really was that bad.  "This is going to hurt a lot," said Aziraphale, trying and failing to make it sound like a threat.</p><p>He wasn't wrong, though -- the pain of bones coming back together startled a yelp out of Crowley, and then the burn of the holiness kicked in and he swore.</p><p>"I'm bringing the wounds up through the skin," Aziraphale whispered into his ear, as the dark bruising spread over Crowley's torso.  "So it will look very much worse, but --"</p><p>"Thanks, right, I'm going to shout a little for effect," Crowley whispered back as Aziraphale started in on -- yes, that rib was probably broken too, now the first one wasn't bothering him so much.  "Ow, fuck, sstop, pleasse," he said, a bit more authentically than he'd meant to.  Aziraphale stepped back, but Crowley supposed he might as well keep pretending to be tortured.  "Oh, no, please, pleasse don't hurt me, just -- <em>ow!</em>" he said, as Aziraphale very deliberately poked one of the horrible bruises.</p><p>Aziraphale gave him a look that very plainly said, <em>Are you quite finished?</em></p><p>"Jusst trying to help," Crowley whispered.  But Aziraphale was running his fingers along the skin of Crowley's waist, and it was distracting.</p><p>"Anywhere else?" Aziraphale whispered, very close to him once more, and the pain had distracted Crowley from his desire for a moment, but now it was back, and stronger, and really very noticeable at this point.  Once he got his tunic back on it wouldn't be so obvious.</p><p>"Ah, no, don't think sso," said Crowley.  "Hand my my tunic, and --"</p><p>"Your legs are all right?  Your feet?" Aziraphale whispered, insistently, and then, without waiting for an answer, his eyes scanned over Crowley's body again, and... lingered.  "Oh!" he said, too surprised to keep his voice down.</p><p>"Ssorry, it'ss not -- Aziraphale -- I -- that'ss not --"  Aziraphale stroked Crowley's cock gently through the cloth of his braies, and Crowley hissed in a sudden intake of breath.  "You don't have to -- not exssactly an injury -- we're in <em>Heaven</em> --"</p><p>"I could make you scream," said Aziraphale, very deliberately.  "If you don't tell me everything you know."  He looked inquiringly at Crowley, whose mouth was suddenly very dry.</p><p>"I, ah."  Well.  He didn't seem to be <em>upset</em> with Crowley.  He looked very hopeful, in fact.  "I won't tell you anything, angel," said Crowley.  The uncomfortable wooden chair was suddenly a much more comfortable upholstered couch sort of thing, and Aziraphale wasted no time in getting Crowley's cock out of his braies.  "You're nh -- you're not gonna get anything out of me," he added, as Aziraphale sat beside him, and began to stroke his cock slowly.</p><p>"Well.  You leave me no choice," said Aziraphale, and somehow it was the most convincingly intimidating he'd sounded the whole day.  (Not that it worked, because Crowley wasn't much intimidated by surprisingly practiced handjobs.)</p><p>"Oh fuck."  Crowley gripped the edge of the seat with one hand, and it hurt a bit because that was the hand Michael had stomped on but fuck it didn't matter now, it was worth a little pain to keep steady for this.  "Oh, oh fuck, angel, <em>pleasse,</em>" he said, whimpering as Aziraphale sped up a bit.</p><p>Aziraphale kissed his neck, and made a satisfied, smug sort of noise, quietly enough that Crowley felt it more than hearing it.  Seeking a bit more leverage to rut up into Aziraphale's grip, Crowley put his other hand on Aziraphale's thigh, and realized he had not thought that through very well, because the little gasp Aziraphale made -- well, <em>fuck.</em></p><p>Crowley moaned, not even trying to make it sound like he was being tortured, and he thought about all the fantasies he'd had of fucking Aziraphale, and he thought of Aziraphale on his own, thinking about this later, bringing himself off to fantasies about Crowley, and then he came.  Panting slightly, Crowley relaxed his grip on the couch and Aziraphale's knee, and sat back weakly.  Aziraphale miracled away the mess.</p><p>"I could..."  Crowley's hand traveled up Aziraphale's thigh, but Aziraphale pulled it away, and Crowley bit back a disappointed noise.</p><p>"Well?  Are you willing to talk now?" Aziraphale asked, standing again.  He was flushed, and he sounded rather breathy.</p><p><em>I could be persuaded to open my mouth for something,</em> Crowley thought, disappointed that Aziraphale wouldn't let him reciprocate.  But he supposed he did owe Aziraphale some information, if only so that he didn't return to Michael empty-handed.  "I -- I guess, the next few centuries are, are..."  He tried to dredge up his recollections of all those awful presentations he'd been sitting through.  "They're -- loads of wars and plagues planned?  But those happen anyway.  And there was gonna be some encouragement towards witchcraft, but -- honestly I fell asleep during that presentation.  Getting people to go out and have parties in the woods?  I mean, what else is there to do?  That's stupid kid stuff."</p><p>Aziraphale looked a little nonplussed.  "Ah.  Well.  Yes.  I.  Thank you.  Demon," he added, quickly, in an attempt to sound more hostile.  It didn't work.</p><p>He looked away, surprisingly shyly, as Crowley got dressed again.  Did he regret what had happened?  Crowley wouldn't have minded a sort of... arrangement with benefits, but that hadn't seemed Aziraphale's style, and he hoped this incident wasn't giving Aziraphale second thoughts.  Their collaboration had been genuinely useful, especially when Hell forgot that Crowley couldn't go to Ireland anymore and sent him half a dozen assignments in Cork, and also -- well -- this bit was embarrassing -- he <em>liked</em> Aziraphale.  A lot.  It was maddening that he couldn't ask Aziraphale any of these questions, of course.</p><p>After Crowley was dressed again -- he left off the heavy armor -- they waited in the room uneasily.  Crowley thought about offering to suck Aziraphale off, but the moment had passed, Aziraphale was looking very sheepish, and also his entire being positively <em>wilted</em> at the thought of Michael walking in on them.  Absolutely not.  No.  <em>Maybe back on Earth?</em> he thought hopefully, but every time he looked at Aziraphale's face, it seemed less and less likely.</p><p>When Michael returned with Ligur, he looked awful; both of his eyes were black (well, both of his eyes were currently turquoise, technically) and the way he was holding his arm, Crowley suspected it was broken.  The fingers definitely were, on both hands.  Michael had been thorough.  Somehow, though, of the four of them, Ligur seemed the happiest, and Aziraphale looked so distraught that Crowley was a bit annoyed.  He hadn't asked for Aziraphale to get him off, and anyway, he'd given Aziraphale the information he had; couldn't ask for more than that, could you?</p><p>Well, apparently Aziraphale could.</p><p>Michael looked unimpressed at Crowley's wounds, which only hurt a little, but were, as Aziraphale had promised, very nasty looking.  "Well?" she asked Aziraphale.  "What did you get out of him?"</p><p>Aziraphale swallowed.  "I'm afraid he doesn't know anything," he said, and Crowley was so surprised he actually blinked.  "I did do my very best," Aziraphale added, "but he just kept saying he didn't know anything and that he wouldn't tell me even if he did.  I -- I mean, obviously the last bit he was lying about, he would have told me, I did my best, as I said, but --"</p><p>"Very well," said Michael.  "I'm afraid this one wasn't very helpful either."  She pushed Ligur forward.  "I suppose we'd better send them back down again."</p><p>"Yes," said Aziraphale.  "Do we -- we don't need to escort them all the way down the stairs, do we?" he asked, worried.  "It's such a long way down."</p><p>"Stairs?" Michael asked, looking at Aziraphale like he was mad.</p><p>"The ones down to Hell?" Aziraphale said.</p><p>Michael tsked to herself.  "They won't be taking <em>stairs,</em> Aziraphale," she said.  Crowley was wondering if they were going to be taking a ramp or a ladder, when Michael made a sweeping sort of gesture and the floor disappeared beneath him, and then all he could think was <em>Oh, not this again.</em></p><p>But unlike the last time he'd fallen from Heaven, Crowley wasn't on the brink of death, and it was a long enough fall that he had time to get his wings out.  And so, while he couldn't exactly stop himself falling in contradiction of an Archangel's miracle, he could slow himself enough that the landing would only hurt inasmuch as falling into a lake of boiling sulfur would hurt -- so, a lot -- but whatever, it was fine.</p><p>Ligur was doing the same, Crowley saw.  He had been a little worried that Ligur would notice his wings weren't harmed, since angels would know that hurting a demon's wings would be torturous, but... oddly enough, Ligur's wings had not a feather out of place either.</p><p>That was interesting.  Had Michael suddenly gone all soft?  Was she newly squeamish?  Not likely.  Ligur must have told her something to make her stop.  It was odd that she'd lied about it to Aziraphale, but Crowley didn't think she knew about the Arrangement, so maybe it was just a reflexive need to keep the information to herself.</p><p>He didn't know why Aziraphale had lied to Michael, either; for some reason, that bothered him more.  (He was so bad at it, too!  Why had Michael believed him?)</p><p>And then Crowley hit the surface of the lake, and there was no time for puzzling out Aziraphale's motives.  He swam his way out as a serpent, and then found himself a room at a shitty inn in the shitty lakefront town where he'd washed up.  He knew the place, or knew of it, anyway; it was about two hours' ride from Dis, one of those places where all the minor nobles of Hell had big fancy houses they didn't enjoy, because you didn't enjoy things in Hell; you tolerated them, and then only if you were lucky.</p><p>Crowley did not have a house here, needless to say, so it was a shitty inn infested with roaches and bedbugs.  He was about half an hour into shedding his skin -- which would help with the sulfur burns, if not the Archangel bruises -- when the door slammed open and in marched Ligur with a couple of Legions.</p><p>"There's the coward!" said Ligur.  "Told Michael everything, he did.  Next time our people get ambushed in the field by angels, they can thank Crowley for it."</p><p>"I didn't even talk to Michael," Crowley insisted.</p><p>"And now he's lying to <em>me!</em>" said Ligur.  "The insolence!"</p><p>"That is pretty bad," said one of the Legions.  "I mean, no, bad's good.  That's... good?  Which is bad.  Is that how it goes?"</p><p>The other Legion shrugged.  "Let's just get him out of here before Ligur gets angry at us, yeah?"</p><p>And that was how Crowley ended up spending a miserable week in Duke Ligur's big fancy house.  Ligur put him up in a cage, which was, as cages go, probably fairly nice, but not big enough for Crowley to stand up in, and not really wide enough to sit in, so he spent the whole time leaning against the bars scratching at his human skin, which was peeling something awful, since he'd been forced to transform mid-shed and all.</p><p>For six nights, Ligur had huge feasts to celebrate his safe homecoming despite the terrible Crowley's foolish arrow shenanigans, which, according to Ligur, had got them caught by angels.  He invited all his guests to poke Crowley with sticks and throw rocks at him, to punish him for this misbehavior.  Pointy sticks and throwable rocks were helpfully provided.</p><p>On the seventh night, Ligur, who was very drunk, had the bright idea to let Crowley loose and offer a prize to anyone who caught him.  Crowley assumed his smallest form, staying close to walls and hiding under furniture while demons nearly stepped on him in an effort to beat their companions out and find Crowley.</p><p><em>Did he even tell them what the prize was?</em> Crowley wondered.  <em>For all they know it's a place in that bloody cage.</em>  But he managed to wait the crowds out and escape.  There was a bit of a close call with the chef, a (literally) eagle-eyed griffin demon who'd tried to eat him last time they'd been face to face, but Crowley made her soup boil over before she could spot him, and she hurried to tend to it while he made his escape.  And once he was safely off of Ligur's estate, he didn't even bother stopping to heal himself.  He could catch his breath once he was back on Earth.</p><p>Crowley didn't really know where he was going to come up on Earth -- he'd just taken the first way up.  He definitely hadn't planned to pop out of the ground right in front of Aziraphale, he certainly hadn't meant to do it in front of three astonished farmhands, in the middle of some crops Aziraphale was meant to be blessing, and he absolutely had not intended to keel over from exhaustion right there.  It was all rather mortifying, actually, especially when he came to, and found himself in an uncomfortably lumpy bed, Aziraphale hovering over him worriedly.  "You're awake!" said Aziraphale, as if this was news Crowley would be glad to hear.</p><p>"Nhgnh," said Crowley, rubbing his eyes.  "How long was I out for?" he asked.  Aziraphale seemed to have taken his armor off, but left his clothes.  Which was... considerate?  Disappointing?  Both?</p><p>"Only a few minutes," said Aziraphale.  "I, ah.  I had to do some very quick thinking to get you out of the humans' way.  What <em>happened,</em> Crowley?  You're bleeding in several more places than you were last time I saw you.  Was the fall that terrible?  Oh, it must have been <em>dreadful.</em>"</p><p>"Not the fall, angel," said Crowley.  "It was... Ligur found me after I got back to land and held me in a cage for a week.  It looks worse than it is," he added, "they caught me in the middle of a shed."</p><p>"A shed?" Aziraphale asked.  "What were you doing in a shed?"</p><p>"Shedding my skin, angel," Crowley reminded him.  "I'm a sssnake, remember?"</p><p>"How could I forget?" Aziraphale said.  "That does make a bit more sense, though.  You look awful."</p><p>"Thanks," said Crowley, rolling his eyes.  "What did you tell the humans?"</p><p>"Ah, well.  I didn't exactly... tell them anything?  I might have, maybe, ah... suggested to them that I came here with you in the first place, and also perhaps that you had been wounded heroically fighting for King Harold, and, ah, they've offered to hide us both in this cottage until you're better."</p><p>Crowley frowned.  There was something wrong with that.  "I'm fairly sure I killed Harold?" he finally remembered.  "Shot him in the eye anyway."</p><p>"Well, they weren't <em>there,</em> they didn't <em>know</em> that," said Aziraphale.  "Did you really?"</p><p>Crowley tried to shrug, but it was very painful so he stopped that immediately.  "Far as I can remember, although... everything gets a bit blurry when an archangel's kicked you in the head recently.  Why?"</p><p>"It's just that... <em>we</em> were supposed to be on the side of the Normans," said Aziraphale.</p><p>"What?  Really?" Crowley asked, because he'd thought siding with a conqueror called "the Bastard" had seemed like an awfully safe bet for the side of evil.  "Why?"</p><p>Aziraphale sighed.  "Well, officially... something about how things have to be, and history, and the ineffable plan..."</p><p>"Unofficially?" Crowley pressed.</p><p>"Heaven likes to be on the winning side," said Aziraphale, and Crowley could read between the lines there easily enough.  "Listen, Michael's definitely not coming back to Earth for a few centuries if she can help it, I can heal you for real if you'd like," he said.</p><p>Crowley looked up into Aziraphale's hopeful eyes.  He thought about Aziraphale's gentle hands on his skin, and about Aziraphale pretending to torture him while he stroked Crowley's cock and brought him blissfully to climax.  "I," he said, his throat dry.  "I, well."</p><p>"Or if you'd rather not..."  Aziraphale looked away from him.  "But you do look dreadful.  You really ought to get healed up, Crowley, they'll think you're a leper."</p><p>Crowley laughed, startling Aziraphale a bit.  "Well.  When you put it like that... yeah, okay, why not?"</p><p>Aziraphale began to undress Crowley again, but this time, Crowley helped him. His healing still stung, but his hands were so gentle and the little tsks he made every time he found a new scab or scrape or bruise on Crowley's skin made Crowley feel, well... <em>good,</em> and not just in a physical sense. Crowley had been looking forward to another handjob, maybe, or something else fun, but he hadn't really been expecting to feel...</p><p>To feel <em>cared</em> for. To feel... <em>loved.</em></p><p>It was a little overwhelming, if Crowley was honest with himself. He watched Aziraphale's face as he healed a finger one of Ligur's guests had broken, and then transferred his attention to the lacerations all down Crowley's chest from where another guest had brought a knife out of the kitchens. The cook had come out shortly after, disemboweled the guest, pulled her knife out of Crowley's gut, and carelessly healed the worst of it before stomping back to her work, but Crowley preferred Aziraphale's brand of healing, for all that it stung very badly. And something hit Crowley, then. Because... he wanted Aziraphale, of course; Aziraphale was attractive, and interesting, and clever, and surprisingly willing to give very dangerous handjobs. And he <em>liked</em> Aziraphale -- he wouldn't have tried working with him otherwise, it was difficult enough working with an enemy without disliking him...</p><p>But he hadn't quite put those things together into the thought that he cared about Aziraphale, the thought that he didn't want to see Aziraphale's frown at his Hellish wounds, but also the thought that seeing the evidence of Aziraphale's own care for him made him feel... hopeful? Made him want more? "Aziraphale?" he said, his voice rough.</p><p>Aziraphale looked startled. "Yes?"</p><p>Fuck, he was so tired. That was probably why he was thinking all these weird things. "Never mind, it's nothing," said Crowley, quickly.</p><p>"You're flushed," said Aziraphale. "Are you -- you don't get sick, do you?" He looked so worried.</p><p>"No, no, I'm..." Crowley cast about for a way to ease Aziraphale's worries without admitting to anything stupid, and then he thought, <em>fuck it,</em> and sat up a bit so that he could kiss Aziraphale.</p><p>Aziraphale's lips were soft and warm, and he made a lovely, startled gasp just before he leaned into the kiss. Then, all too soon, he pulled away. "Crowley, we <em>shouldn't,</em>" he said, his eyes wild and fearful.</p><p>"'Course we shouldn't," said Crowley, "but where's the fun in that?"</p><p>"It's not just <em>fun,</em> Crowley, we could be -- we could be <em>caught,</em>" said Aziraphale.</p><p>"That certainly didn't stop you when you were interrogating me," Crowley pointed out. "And now we're not even in Heaven. You did say you could make me scream," he added.</p><p>"That -- that didn't mean anything," said Aziraphale, going red. "I just -- it was -- it would have been... awkward to bring you back to Michael, looking like that," he said quickly.</p><p>"I'm just saying, it doesn't have to mean anything now, either," said Crowley, who was a bit grateful for the option to not think about all this <em>caring about Aziraphale</em> stuff -- or he was, until he saw the look on Aziraphale's face, a terrible, heartbreaking mixture of guilt and relief and fear and love.</p><p>"No. No, I -- I suppose it doesn't," said Aziraphale, and he paused for one panicky moment, just long enough for Crowley to understand that the problem was that it meant entirely too much, before Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed Crowley.</p><p>They kissed frantically, as if perhaps they would never see each other again, as if this moment was all they would ever have and they had better make it last. Eventually, several eternities in, Crowley pulled Aziraphale into his lap and gasped; he hadn't realized how fucking hard he was until he felt Aziraphale's erection nudge up against his. Aziraphale moaned a little into his mouth and his hips rocked forward slightly before, agonizingly, he stopped himself.</p><p>He was probably having thoughts about how much they shouldn't be doing this again, and Crowley wasn't going to stand for <em>that.</em> "Fuck, angel," he said, "back in Heaven you never even used your sword on me. I should've held out longer."</p><p>Aziraphale laughed, startled, and then gasped as Crowley pressed against his dick with the palm of his hand. "I can't say it hadn't occurred to me," he said. "I -- Crowley..." His eyes darted up and down Crowley's body. "Could I -- would it be --"</p><p>"What are you waiting for, an invitation?" Crowley asked.</p><p>Aziraphale kissed him again, quickly, then stood and undressed with clumsy haste while Crowley dealt with his own remaining clothes. It didn't take Crowley long, and he ended up watching Aziraphale, who, perhaps out of some strange shyness, had put his back to Crowley. That was fine with Crowley; Aziraphale, it turned out, had quite a nice arse, and lovely thighs, the sight of which Crowley was going to remember for later.</p><p>"Oh!" said Aziraphale, noticing Crowley staring at him. "I'm -- sorry, I'm not very --"</p><p>"You're beautiful, now come here and fuck me," said Crowley, spreading his legs invitingly.</p><p>"That mattress looks <em>awful,</em>" said Aziraphale, frowning down at it. Crowley couldn't believe he was about to be cockblocked by a mattress, but Aziraphale snapped his fingers and it suddenly became very soft, with pillows, and curtains. "Much better," he said, and joined Crowley on the bed.</p><p>"Really?" Crowley asked, amused.</p><p>"It's a Good Deed," Aziraphale said. "Sleep is -- is really very important for humans' health, and they were so kind to let us use this cottage, and..." He trailed off, looking at Crowley, and made a wordless noise.</p><p>"Yes?" Crowley asked.</p><p>"Not -- not important," said Aziraphale.  His eyes traveled over Crowley's body again, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.  Crowley smirked as his gaze lingered on his cock.</p><p>He settled himself between Crowley's legs, and slid two slick fingers into Crowley's arse. Crowley moaned as his fingers passed over a particularly sensitive spot. "I can still make you scream, you know," he added, with a surprisingly wicked smirk, and slid his thick cock into Crowley a moment later.</p><p>"Angel," whimpered Crowley, who had not been prepared for just how good this would feel. And then Aziraphale pressed further into him, and -- "<em>Fuck,</em> sso good," he gasped. Aziraphale thrust into him, breathing hard, but his rhythm was maddeningly slow, and he seemed to be holding back, for some reason. "Aziraphale, <em>pleasse,</em> fuck me nice and hard, don't jusst --"</p><p>"Don't want to -- to hurt you more," said Aziraphale. "You were so hurt, and -- nhh," he said, as Crowley jerked his hips upward forcefully.</p><p>"Fuck's ssake, do you want to make me sscream or --" Crowley cut himself off with a gasp as Aziraphale apparently decided his suggestion had merit. "Aziraphale, <em>Aziraphale,</em> oh G-- ngh, fuck, you feel so <em>good,</em>" he managed, and then cried out as Aziraphale angled his hips a little and soon everything was a pleasurable blur of Aziraphale's dick inside him, Aziraphale's hands on his hips, and Aziraphale's lips and teeth at his neck. He came messily, rutting up against Aziraphale's stomach, and in a few moments Aziraphale finished inside him.</p><p>"Angel," said Crowley, running a hand through Aziraphale's hair, and they shared a slow, gentle kiss. "Fuck. That was. Mngh," he added, as Aziraphale rolled off of him. "This bed is ridiculous, though," he said, staring up at the curtains. Not only were they velvet, the velvet was a shade of deep blue that human dyers would probably resort to murder to achieve.</p><p>"I thought if we were going to do this we might as well be <em>comfortable,</em>" said Aziraphale, who was pleasantly warm next to him, with his head on one of the pillows.</p><p>"Mmm. Well. Between you and Ligur, I'm fucking exhausted. Might sleep for a bit." Beside him, Aziraphale had gone tense. "What's wrong?"</p><p>"Ligur," said Aziraphale. "He didn't... did he?" It took Crowley a moment to realize what he was getting at.</p><p>"No, fuck no," said Crowley, laughing. "Just stuck me in a cage, nothing worsse." That didn't seem to comfort Aziraphale, so Crowley kissed him again. "Thankss for... everything," he said, drowsily, and settled into the most comfortable nap he'd had in centuries.</p><p>* * *</p><p>When Crowley awoke, it was dark. He was clean and fully dressed, minus his shoes and armor. Aziraphale wasn't next to him, but he was still in the stupid miraculous bed he'd conjured, so Crowley knew Aziraphale was still around, and the people whose cottage this was hadn't sold the bed, mattress, and curtains for a small fortune. He sat up, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, found his shoes, and went outside to find Aziraphale.</p><p>Aziraphale wasn't difficult to find, fortunately; he was standing just outside, watching the sky like something interesting might happen in it.</p><p>"Ah. You're awake," said Aziraphale. He flashed Crowley an uncertain sort of smile.</p><p>"I am. How long did I sleep?" he asked.</p><p>"A week and a half, about," said Aziraphale. "I was... I was a bit worried."</p><p>"Nah, 's normal enough after the week I'd had," said Crowley. "What were you looking at?" he asked. "Not getting into astrology, are you, angel? You know that's nonsense."</p><p>"I do," said Aziraphale, "but the humans were telling me there'd been a star up there had predicted King Harold's death." He nodded at the sky.  "I think it's gone now.  Sounds more like a comet."</p><p>"Yeah, no, I remember that one," said Crowley.  "Came by earlier this year.  Got nothing to do with..." Crowley paused. "You know, I might've made that one? Sort of lost track of the comets, it's easy to lose track of comets."</p><p>"It is?" Aziraphale asked. "I thought they were fairly regular."</p><p>"No, I mean, when you're making them," said Crowley. "We were only supposed to make one or two, but..." He made a noise intended to represent the infinite uncertainties of the universe.  "Got into a... a sort of snowball fight, actually.  And I <em>really</em> wanted to win," he admitted."</p><p>Aziraphale laughed.  Crowley had been having doubts about his feelings for Aziraphale, and had tried to talk himself out of them a bit while he was looking for his shoes -- what sort of angel didn't put your shoes in a findable place?  How could he be in love with someone like that?  But when Aziraphale laughed, Crowley felt a sort of pang in his chest, and he knew, with terrible certainty, that this was something more serious than a little crush on a work nemesis.</p><p>"Did you?" Aziraphale asked.</p><p>"Did I what?" Crowley asked.</p><p>"Did you win?  The snowball fight," Aziraphale reminded him.</p><p>"Oh!"  Crowley frowned.  "Don't really remember, we all got caught and yelled at before there could really be a winner.  But they kept the comets around."</p><p>"Well.  I'm glad you had fun, then," said Aziraphale.  His smile fell.  "I do feel a bit bad for Harold, though," he said, looking back up at the sky.</p><p>"He probably deserved it," said Crowley.  "Kings, you know.  Usually pretty awful people.  We get a lot of 'em."  He watched Aziraphale watching the sky for a long moment, and then said, "Aziraphale?"</p><p>Aziraphale looked at him again, saw his serious expression, and looked away again.  "We shouldn't, Crowley, we're going to get into <em>terrible</em> trouble and if they can put you in a cage just for -- for just, some nonsense Ligur was talking, I shudder to think --"</p><p>"Aziraphale, come on, look at me," said Crowley, taking Aziraphale's hands in his own.  Reluctantly, Aziraphale looked at him.  "Listen.  I know it doesn't have to mean anything."  Aziraphale's face did something complicated and upsetting, and Crowley resisted the urge to just tell him, <em>I think I love you?</em> to make him feel better, because he knew it would probably make him feel worse.  "It doesn't have to mean anything," he repeated, "but.  If... if you change your mind, it can."</p><p>Aziraphale's eyes went wide, and without warning, he seized the front of Crowley's tunic, and pulled him in for a kiss.  He released Crowley and pulled away, all too soon.  "Be careful out there, Crowley," he said gently.</p><p>Crowley grinned.  "Oh, I'll be fine, always have been," he said.  "I'd better get back to work, though; got a quota to meet, and I've been away for two and a half weeks."  Aziraphale tried to look disapproving, but he smiled back.  "See you around, angel!"  Crowley turned and walked away, but he could swear he felt Aziraphale beaming at him as he made his way back into the world, in search of some new havoc to wreak.</p>
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